Draco Seethed
by mightyminerva
Summary: All he had to do was fix the Cabinet, but the potions, the fear... Draco was alone, chose to be alone, and wasn't about to let her in. No matter how good it felt. WARNING: includes some bondage.
1. Chapter 1

DRACO SEETHED

this is just something I had to get down on paper.

Draco seethed.

He collected the many dog-eared library books from the ground by his feet, cursing the ripped pages his temper had caused him to tear when the spells the books promised him hadn't worked. Not one spell had improved the Cabinet's magically twisted insides today.

He took a vial from his pocket and uncorked it, letting the Wakefullness Potion drip sluggishly down his tongue.

It was a banned substance that in the past month he'd demanded that Crabb or Goyle keep concealed on their person for him at all times. Draco felt the jolting energy as he swallowed, and he shook his ice blonde head to settle the unnaturalness of the high in his sore, sleep-ridden body.

There would be much worse than this, much worse than death even, if he could not fix the Vanishing Cabinet so that it could bring fellow Death Eaters into Hogwarts on the night he would kill Dumbledore.

On the night he would have no choice but to kill Dumbledore.

As he walked down the long stone corridor Professor Snape followed him, at a marked distance.

"Where is your Hand of Glory tonight, Draco? You are being careless." He called to him.

Draco halted, "I did not think I would need to be out after hours tonight."

"It is almost midnight, Draco. You are most certainly out after hours."

"And?"

"And this is not a conversation we have not had many times before. Let me help you."

"No. I don't care about your vow, that's not my problem, is it?"

"Then I am afraid you will have to come with me. Night wandering cannot go unpunished." Snape raised his wand, and Draco felt his limbs bind together. It was like hovering on an invisible hook; the toe of his boots just a hair's breadth above the ground.

"Let me go, _Professor,_ or my-"

Draco spat in anger but it carried no effect. Snape slowly propelled him through the air by what felt to be his collar until they were outside the office of Argus Filch. The injustice burned at his lungs.

This would mean no roast beef from the kitchens. It would be hours more before he could crawl onto his mattress for a few hours hasty sleep, and it would doubtless mean a detention that he would never attend.

This was no time for inane little games. Snape should know this.

"I am at my wits end, Draco. You are being childish." He said pushing him inside the office until Draco was forced against one of the walls where Filch kept his polished manacles. "Perhaps detention for your carelessness will wake you to the fact that you need help with your endeavors."

Snape sneered at him while clapping his wrists in irons above his head. Snape then put down his wand and fastened Draco's ankles tight to the wall. "Argus sleeps elsewhere. I will be back to let you lose at dawn."

Snape left Draco hanging, and with the click of the office door all light was shut from the room.

Draco panicked, swollen nerves jittering in his chest with the rest of the wakefullness. There was no light. The blackness in front of his eyes was infinite and lurked, teasing him with obscurities. For a few minutes he writhed in the chains, and the stone clanked dully against the well oiled metal. It was of no use. His own wand was in the back pocket of his robes, far beyond hope of retrieval.

He was not afraid of the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

DRACO SEETHED

let me know what you thought of it, oks?

Draco was _not_ afraid of the dark, or what would come from it to eat him alive. He was sixteen.

For an hour, two hours, he counted seconds while his body hung exhausted from fright. After two hours and 23 minutes, he was at last relieved. Draco didn't hear her, though his ears were keen and sensitive in the silence of the dark, for he heard nothing except his own chains rattling with apprehension when the pale glow entered the room. Her light bounced off the close corners of the office, illuminating only Filch's manacles and apparatuses, and Draco relaxed.

He could see.

The ghost before him sniffed. She looked young, too young to be a ghost, and he had never seen her before in the castle. "What are you looking at, girl?"

"Can't you get me down?"

"No," she replied, and Draco noticed that she was dressed in robes stitched with the Hogwarts crest. "I'd just go right through you."

"I only came in here because I heard noises. I thought I could hear someone crying," the unknown girl said, nearly smiling at her last words.

"You were _wrong_," Draco answered. "And who are you to come round here at night? You're just some miserable little dead person. How'd you die then? Someone kick you off the astronomy tower?"

The girl who had been on the edge of tears since she had entered began to cry.

"Or did you decide to kill yourself because you're just so hideous?" She didn't wait for Draco shout at her to leave. Still sobbing she floated out of the office, and the ghostly glow that had emanated from her began to collapse.

The emptiness prickled Draco, and he realized that he had just taunted away his only escape from the haunting dark. "WAIT," he called to no response. "COME BACK."

But the darkness didn't care, and it was thick around him. Anything could be there, waiting for him and the moment he was wandless. Like how he was now…

Draco felt his blood beating and his limp legs grow colder. He whimpered.

Malfoys do not whimper.

"PLEASE. FOR MERLINS SAKE PLEASE COME BACK."

Draco broke down completely. He choked back his own haughty tears, but water bled from his eyes indifferently.

After 14 minutes the ghost girl's wails became louder, until Draco heard her directly outside. "I didn't mean those things I said," he told her. He was lying.

She floated back toward him; Draco breathed again as the light grew, but he was still on the edge the potion and fear pushed him toward.

Her face was streaked in ghostly tears and Draco's eyes were dank with redness as she made introductions.

"My name is M-Myrtle," she said through sobs. "Why did you want me to come back? You were saying horrible things about me!"

Draco met her stare.

"I know you've been crying. Have people been making fun of you?" Myrtle sniffed. "I cry all the time."

Draco was silent. He felt the fix of the Wakefullness potion refusing to let his attention drift. He felt like he could run laps around the castle and while he was at it swim to the bottom of the lake in one breath and come up to fly loops over the Quidditch pitch.

Instead he hung from wrists chained to stone.

"People made—people _make_ fun of _me _all the time. I wanted to kill myself. I did want to. I was going to hang myself, in the ropes that hold back the tapestries in the great hall, right before the Holidays. But then I died, anyway."

"Everyone has to die, I suppose," Draco said hesitantly.

"But imagine! My whole life, all I wanted was to end it so they could all feel miserably guilty. And then it was all gone. My life is tragic…."

"Is your life tragic too?" Myrtle's large glassy eyes blinked mournfully, prodding him to speak.

"In so many words."

They were silent for a full minute but Draco remained stoic.

"Do you know what's most tragic about being stuck at 15-years-old?"

Myrtle edged even closer to him, her thick glasses angled as she leered at Draco. "I don't think that I would…"

"It's these _hormones_."

"Oh." It was all that Draco could think to respond. She was as close as she could be without touching him and the energy that came off her blew against him, as night wind from the astronomy tower. It rustled his sweat laced hair, and he shut his eyes against her.

"Myrtle, this probably isn't the best of ideas-"

"Oh but you wouldn't want me to leave again, now would you?"

The curve of Draco's backbone hit flat against the stone. Her intent was more than clear to him but what could she do? Her every touch would pass through him as it would every other object.

She was a _ghost_. She couldn't feel _anything_.

"Myrtle, stop. You're dead. You can't feel things."

Myrtle furrowed her nose. "Oh you're the clever one. No, I can't feel you." She pressed her fingers through his chest and cold from her first touch shot his system into attention. "But you feel me. I can be more than any stupid living girl. To see you squirm in your chains... I am looking forward to that."

"Try to relax," She purred, pushing the pale palm of her hand through the wall behind him before slowly removing it, moving backwards, from his chest. But Draco couldn't relax. He was chained to a wall, in the wrong state of mind, and being leered at by a mousey dead girl.

Her fingers played up and down his sides, and Draco shivered. The cold collided expertly on the hot wires that were his nerves, and forgetting that she was a ghost, that she should be ice, Myrtle was fire along him.

He could hear his blood beating in his arms as they pressed against his ears, and it beat wilder as she stroked his throat.

"What's your name then?" Myrtle asked, her voice low.

"Draco," He answered, monotone, and Myrtle leapt in excitement to whisper in his ear.

"Oooohh. Are you really the Heir of Slytherin?"

"What?"

"I knew students who thought that you were the Heir. But nobody ever thinks to tell me how things end up. I'm just a ghost."

In the tangle of his mind, it made sense to Draco. This wasn't the same Hogwarts he'd attended for six years. This was not how Snape punished Slytherins. And this was not Pansy leaning over him, goading him on with the warmth of her body.

"Yes. I am the Heir of Slytherin."

"Ooh," Myrtle cooed, and ran her hands down his back through the wall behind him, and Draco's spine stretched long as he hung from his wrists.

"The Heir of Slytherin has a pet. Did you know that?" Draco asked her.

"I thought it was a monster?"

"It is. The Heir has a basilisk. A snake of epic proportion." Draco no longer knew what he was saying or why he was finding the thickly glowing glasses before him so stimulating.

"I want you to release the snake, Myrtle."

She laughed and moved against his thighs so she passed through him by inches. "Draco, I can't. I'd just go right through you."

"But you can feel me _there_, can't you Draco? I can go right through your robes. I only wish I could take off mine…"

Myrtle moved around him so her fingers wet his lips in cold and her body pierced his baggy robes. It looked to Draco like candlelight had been stuck up his robes in the dim room as he shifted his weight around her temperatures.

Her silken glow bounced around him as it tickled at his cock. The energy of the Wakefulness was still with him, and the beat up blood in his body began to race to where it was needed.

Draco Malfoy, Heir of Slytherin, his eyes still red with fear and his wrists cut by irons, grinned like a two year old with a stolen lollipop.


End file.
